Yoni, You Bet Mighty Right

Sabrina says this house looks like a book she read once, a book she once read and once she read it her kick-started super-forever. I think you were in it squarely dancing with some same old bruise who was always begging you to panic. Did you, after all? Pulling out from her lips on the beach she felt me through for a moment in sight and proceeded to hoot and holler echoing the unit of life, maha-yogi, a western chemist friend and a writer who pretended to like to fight. Drink her, she decided. In front of everyone I might like.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX.

Past fancier sights resembling greatly a dream

Himalaya high so snowy mountaintop om - give me shivers

decorate breathing bones around a fire howl for sinners

for breadcrumbs give them maps and spooky magick mirrors

talk talks and to the wide open sore listen

mauna loa spatter-cone go black obsidian beaches

trees aged smoke but get eternal life

lament yr mind’s nasty habits handmade

yr perfume dope and ice

highrise rooftop rural shade

think it’s only right

in your hand holy genius

and the boozy satellite

who put the words everywhere?!

who put the press release?!

i caught you doing it

i saw you on the late drive home

i attempted to interpret it

and apart from that, smoke…

Chris Weige | California, TX.

She sits on the sun

Shesitsonthesunbitingme

poisonsarebored

i’m a big poem recited

but what I normally do is hide it

nextsomehumanancestors

womeninvariousshades

swirlinggirlsuntetheredwholiketoplay

fleshy, insatiable reservoirs

secretsthewayyouwantthem

(very close to the scene

black buttermilk roads)

Chris Weige | Austin, TX.

The headless chicken is history's second cousin

the heart hems around celebrated verses and ever do you heroes heavenly go

kicking around tucson's coast for a pill wanted the most, one studied for eons by panels of dignified ghosts,

soul contemporaries who point point to Shakespeare and hence the child appears in the room like Picasso re-birthing rebirth & recollections

once thought impossible...

the poem making history hers in photographs, prayers, velvet tomato moon-rain

breathing every ornate beat and innate beast where love way

where love way breaking out

where love way a bottle of earth intoxicates us fools feeding this pulchritude full of woozy cloud

by the fountain roundabout where dikhotomos caught a mouse.

the heart hems around her story

even better her fingerprint stars on the street diamond

becoming every no-thing in a hurricane baptism, becoming Man the mystery being.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX.

The Men and Women of Vigor Vibe

And ante every erg with epileptic bobs brought on by breathless theremin.

Everyone bounces to the rumor and agrees: Sweat is the song’s body amplified;

wild gestures for the blissful life compilation.

That smell is the South on the rise, and Chinese dumplings top secret.

Right now the borough boasts exceptional sounds and scents

in the air a defiance of the depressive buzz;

phenomenal street cars float by on magic rugs

and still the inauguration rains its ambitious art while curious squares traverse the pyramid projects.

Architectural narcotics ignite the long-buried guts and imagi-nation once stoned on credentials and ruts

– this is where common sense is all-encompassing and words good and bad a virus,

where red and blue are purple, black and white gray, and enigami’s urge unrivaled;

I saw the extraordinary magnitude in getting unplugged, kicked keys in every corner affectionately

and noted in the body commotion, a starving inferno eavesdropping on a needle in the hay.

Unknown news was being leaked: Words do reality build up and deconstruct, happy to have been repainted

by abacus suppliers who believe Creativity is going for them; will shake them up, backstroke those centuries to meet beneath

their quietly aching feet with friction heat:

Picture what has been seen; imbibe the walks and wild-dance so head on the map; so head movie so sunrise on sheep

We all want a taste.

Napoleon invades fertile sands

open sesame.

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | A While Ago

Her Tune is a Love Song Ripped on Writ Panties

Hey, Her you yen for, her in the by and by and in your words covet after her curveswith a couple of weeks worth of mystical ankles. Los potential. Add there feet and feelers, a good book, matching moonlight and her hanging on a breath at the stop sign. For my dirty her yen stomata-like radio nourishment (my elixir); genuflect and intently ache at the aphrodisiac blisters. Her tune is a love song in exquisite flux transistor on tattered scanty scrawled: come on(e), come all.

Los alamos te amo

as reported to me by a cottonwood tree... the midnight gardener's mind is not a brain receiving signals but signals making a brain in the cellar in the kitchen in the hallways in the light let in home and um and molt burdened words, guilt, mediocrity; aum in formally sin waves and aum elder stars around snaking skeleton keys; to me freemen talk about the new music and strange poetry exposing wings while flying vee carpet teams soothe a bayou and classic scene muscle-minded, overtaxed and barely getting by in the back; america, you are my favorite looking glass TV newborn and so advised be: the radio and laptop do work (I'm serious) so does the dictionary in the 21st century when the walk of life forms a secret country needing distribution when the bibulous whistlers claim budget woes while selling out from under your feet the very stones, the very gold n' water - the very meat and salad ottawa on to rio, tikrit and neo and who will know after all who got what when nothing is true and everything free?

Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit

60 Cycle Hum

The linkage between doubts, or To Build a Living Creature, or What are the Exact Results Given the Dreams…hum ding hunting for principles the last ten years; found many a miracle took in fear hear lost a parent or phenomenon - have come cured, monk, a hard sell heartness when for some matter of time a tribe took a million steps inherited…intelligence was passed on in mysterious ways and many many split…a father implanted a garden, a yard, hundreds of rows of cotton in the ground, most detailed world…see what happened to the seeds and spring harbor songs - certainly off spring suddenly the mother’s womb and genes therefore lucky…chroma, the stuff mated in more ways than one which is the size of an orange observed on the wavelength of this message…the reader will observe the various stimuli generating energy endlessly at work like a sleepy magnetic string - say that

say that at a picnic while a cool scent divulges a certain recipe

say that with considerable poetic fertility

say that in whatever position however you look or seem or while painting nude the spare bedroom door

wander around the house shattering the oak floor

Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit

The Things I Do For You

as we wake here

to the honey hands w/ the higher frequency meanings,

to the subvocal modifiers with all that newfangled lectricity

crawling inside the pipes and sea breezes

as we wake here wrapping our bodies around our lips,

unimpaired, unbridled, in season

all the can't blossoms come back as can uncategorized, debriefing

they do this over and over and over...i don't know why.

i don't know if they remember it and if they don't why not,

and if they do what then and what's your thought? where do you stand?

i don't know but i swallowed a dozen butterflies and bees, honey pot,

running around all day shooing them off

your snow white sandy beaches

and hollow tundra, and rain runoff,

running round running off phantoms holding jumping bean hearts

in their giant hands in their fancy sports cars and celebrity golf

Though not all I can surely say that some of them were rotten,

yet they were gorgeous and wore bikinis made of cotton.

the things i do for you...

Life - whatever - it exists

Worldly wordly worthy vessel

am the chainlink tongue and telepathic eye

go see the miles and flower pop cycles

be exuberant enter the din of yr rivals

Blonde twins - now I’ve got yr attention -

some of them seem to be kissing

generally gorgeous genitals leaping room to room

to be of use to be involved according to an elaborate blueprint

The vast multitude of reactions are fuel

for the living cell (you know why it sings)

visualize water tracking down the invisible

starlight life working all the parts in all the systems

Even middle-aged stars are crucial in this instant

light becomes life through you and theyme turning the wheels of existence.

Notes for a report on the total behaviour of a skyscraper in the eye of a hurricane

The hottest records are warped while most of the rest are buried in the desert.

A working cadre of earth scientists and worldly magicians - armed with computers, think-screens, 32 Japanese cars, and top secret data - work together and compete to deride crucial system programs and factors to either “refresh” or “deplete” your memory.

The mystery is not in the advanced technological applications but rather in the crudeness of the phenomenon and the far-reaching influence and impact of these operations – on all sides.

To eyes filtering the spectrum,

This is a true portrait of a dramatic era.

It may well take decades to pore over these secret facts and comprehensive mathematical models.

To improve the equation and perfect peak tides there must exist long-term immediate insight and critical introspection, to be fair.

They forecast for the stage worldwide temperature change, even new starlight and infrared/ultraviolet waves. Waterways.

There are floods and other earth wobbles and tragedy.

Trade and commerce are hardly contingent on governmental meteorology or the content of the deep sea.

(This process took months to hide.)

Chris Weige | from The Richmond Review | Austin, TX.